Sherlocks new fix
by saulute
Summary: Hello! I am publishing this again under a slightly different name after I removed it a month ago and had requests for it back. Updates may be slow due to the fact I'm writing on an iPhone. And for any new comers: sherlocks a junkie and john helps him out with kink etc...
1. Chapter 1

WARNING: Contains graphic description of murder and drug use. Also a little bit of width drawl. Oh and although so far I have only written two chapters with only a brief D/S element there will be more. A lot more. So please dont read this if your 18 or under. It's going to get NSFW.

Read with caution, Could be triggering :)

**Chapter 1**

Sherlock had managed a meager 15 minutes of Scotland Yards 'Christmas party' before he felt like throwing something at the majority of people there.

Lestrade had begged Sherlock to come to be shown off like some kind of prize-winning puppy in exchange for some interesting cold-cases that had been filed away in the 'unsolved section' for a number of years. Something that had occurred to Sherlock is that although he enjoyed solving the cold-cases that, in his opinion even a half wit like Donovan could have solved, Lestrade was also getting something out of that end of the deal. He won both ways, and that left a sense of annoyance building up in the bottom of Sherlocks stomach.

He stood in the corner of the room , silently deducing things about everybody in the clustered shoe box sized hall as they chatted obnoxiously. The women standing directly in front of Sherlock, talking to a vaguely recognizable police officer had, for example, had more than eight sexual partners in the last month.

The man she was talking to, however, had only two. Sherlock leaned his head against the wall to steady himself as a vast wave of information clouded his mind. He deduced who was submissive, who was dominant. He picked out a few poor people that where switches and even recognized one man unsure if he was any one of the three.

He looked at his phone. It had been only five minutes ago that he noticed he had only been in that dank smelling hell for quarter of an hour. He had promised Lestrade at least 30 minutes of his time.

Locking his phone and slipping it back into his pocket he made his way through the crowd in search of Lestrade and those promised cold-cases.

"Ah Sherlock!" The Inspector said excitedly as he pulled him into a corner as he was about to walk past. Not giving the detective enough time to answer he hurriedly introduced an old women. Probably a benefactor, definitely rich, the detective thought to himself. How boring. Lestrade raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly at Sherlock, signalling for him to shake the womens hand.

He did so, but kept his attention squarely on the grey-haired inspector standing behind her warmly clasping her shoulders. "Those cases" Sherlock said flatly. Lestrade looked at his watch.

"It hasn't exactly been half an hour, has it" He cautioned.

"I'll get an early start then, won't I?" Sherlock shot back through gritted teach. He was so obviously agitated at being forced to stand in the same room with people he regarded as lower than sea life.

"Fine, fine" Lestrade gave in, shaking the woman a little in a form of a goodbye and left the area they had been conversing in and heading towards his office, expecting Sherlock to follow.

On the desk, was three boxes. All three had multiple white-stickers placed over the names where new ones where re-written. The paper was old, and peeling at the side where the original name tag had been. _Brilliant_ Sherlock thought fondly. He loved old cases.

He took the three boxes, one piled on top of the other without saying anything else and hurriedly left the precinct, flagging down a taxi cab and telling him the address. Sherlock had been bored for what seemed like months with the seemingly same, reoccurring cases of jilted lovers, or drug overdoses, the occasional suicide. Lestrade had promised these where a better use of his time. He could only hope he hadn't been lying.

Carelessly throwing notes at the Cab Driver he hurried to the door of 221B, opening it he almost ran up the stairs causing Mrs. Hudson to peek her head out the door to see what the commotion was about. She waved a hand in dismissal and chuckled to herself before shutting the door again and returning to her dinner.

As soon as Sherlock had made his way up the stairs and into the living room, he sat down on a number of other papers already sprawled out over the floor and rummaged through one of the boxes, laying all the information out on the floor. Triple Homicide. Same MO as a number of other murders in the area; The house had been broken into and the throats slit on everybody inside, including the animals. The victims had been taken up into the attic and arranged so that they were kneeling and looking out the window. Each one of their mouths had been spliced open, giving them the appearance of a 'smile'. _Happy __Family's_ Sherlock thought to himself as he looked through the other miner details of the case.

Sherlock had soon deduced the unique brand of shoe that the killer wore. Sherlock knew that it could only be brought from two shops in the area, and every single one of the murders -three houses, eleven victims not including pets- had been in the area. The murders were personal, and well thought out but the killer had left behind fingerprints and several of the victims had more than one 'slash mark' on their neck. The killer may have thought out his plan, but that didn't make up for his lack of basic medical knowledge or strength.

Looking through the names of people who had been questioned one name stood out. He had been talked about only one of the murders and had given a statement.

All the other people that had offered their insight on the case when questioned had said that The Carters -the second house to be slaughtered- had kept to themselves. With only two people living in the home there wasn't a lot of noise and people generally regarded them as a little reclusive. A young, christian couple who had been married early and was now trying for a baby.

Kent Lomley, however, told the story of how they where polite and kind. How they said Hello and asked how he was whenever they walked down the street. What kind of idiot could have missed that. Because he had only been questioned once it must have been overlooked if anybody had seen it at all. _Morons_. Lestrade would find the pair of expensive shoes the idiot had worn to the crime scene and would probably find evidence inside the house. That is, of course if he was still alive. These cases where old.

Sherlock almost screamed out loud at his frustration. Lestrade had said these cases where interesting. That one was gruesome, yes. It had a lot of victims, yes, but it had taken him all of three minutes to solve it.

The detective stood up, his entire body feeling over sensitized. His brain screaming at him to find something interesting, to find something to do. He stalked off to the bathroom and removed the mirror. He carefully removed a small wooden box from behind it. He could already feel himself start to relax at the mere thought of what he was about to do.

He walked to his favorite chair. Taking a seat, he slid his hand along the bottom and pushed a piece of wood near the edge, unlocking the box. The detective opened it, revealing a bag of white powder, a spoon, a lighter and a clean syringe. He ran he fingers over the syringe, removing it from the box along with the bag of powder. Next came the spoon and the lighter. He removed the box from the table setting it down carefully at his feet as if it would break if he made one wrong move. Emptying a little of the bag on to the spoon, he considered something for a moment, before tipping a little more of the contents on to the metal object he was holding firmly in his hand. Using his syringe to collect a little water from the glass that was sitting beside Sherlock - and had been, he thought, for a few months now - he added it to the mixture. Using his lighter to cook his Heroin, Sherlock thought about the decision he was making. He had added a little more on to the spoon than usual but this time he needed it. This time his thoughts were raging inside him making his head physically ache.

When Sherlock was finished, he sucked up the mixture in the syringe, and tied the belt he kept beside his chair round his arm. He slowly pushed the needle into the vein on his arm and slowly, very slowly, sank back into his chair. His arm forget to hold the syringe and slumped to his other side. The detectives mouth opened slightly as his high fully took hold, and a groan escaped his throat in delight.

Note: Hello kind people! ^.^ I have no idea if anybody will actually read this, but if you do let me know. There will be more to come! Its going to getting pretty porny I think. Actually I know it is. This is a BDSM kink fic so if you dont like it, please dont read it. ^.^


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sherlock Holmes had always deemed himself a unstoppable force, so when he was barely conscious and recognizing Mrs. Hudson's shrill screams and babbling into what he thought may have been a phone he didn't really register it. He just drifted back of into Heroin induced bliss.

He awoke in a much different state. Agitated and aching, he tried to sit up in what he shortly realized was a hospital bed. A needle was protruding from his hand and leading up to an IV. He looked around for a while; taking in an analyzing every aspect of this peculiar room he had found himself in. He pulled the small adhesive tab that had helped to hold the IV in place and let it fall onto the ground it on to the ground before carefully and painfully removing the needle that was snugly sitting in his vein.

He wobbled slightly in his first attempt to get up, but managed to make it to the door. A nurse noticed him and rushed to his side, helping steady him.

"Mr Holmes" she said in a Caribbean accent "You can't leave the hospital yet. I'll tell 'ya landlady that you've woken up, though okay?" she was patronizing. Sherlock was annoyed.

"That's an awfully patronizing tone of voice from somebody who obvio-"

The nurse cut him off. "None of that now, Dear" she said, pulling the blanket up over him and settling his head of the pillow "Ill tell 'ya doctor" and with that, she had left the room.

Sherlock huffed. The woman was obviously a dominant, but still a nurse. She had to be respectful, but that didn't mean she could be domineering as well.

Sherlock winced as Mrs. Hudson came round the corner looking angry, and concerned. _The phone call_ Sherlock remembered. _She must have found me_. No wonder she looked so agitated. He must have been in a terrible state. Instead of apologising to her when she came into the room he crossed his arms and sulked.

"You bloody fool!" she yelled in a worried tone. She had obviously been crying. Throwing her arms around Sherlock and giving him a peck on the cheek she continued to chastise him. He managed to tone out most of her boring drivel. He didn't need to sum up the energy to delete whatever she had said later on. He was already feeling tired. His ears only perked up at the mention of a dom, but by the time Sherlock had registered the comment she had carried on babbling.

"Wait, what was that about a dom?" he inquired.

"I'm getting you one!" Mrs. Hudson replied, with a frown on her face. Before Sherlock had a chance to talk back she continued "Listen love, I found a nice little place where you can hire a dom and they will look after you if you can't find one yourself. Its really not that expensive and im willing to pay it"

"What an earth are you talking about, Mrs. Hudson. I haven't had a dom in months" Sherlock complained.

"That's the problem dear" She explained "This dom whoever he is - is going to stay with you. He can have the upstairs bedroom and im not asking for any more rent either. He'll look after you. I spoke with him on the phone he said the relationship is entirely open to negotiation. You can set boundaries, but he'll make sure you stay off the drugs. I have taken all of that nasty stuff out the house I could find!"

Sherlocks smirk - which had been brought on by the idea that there was no way Mrs. Hudson could have found all of the drugs he had hidden in the house - was stopped short as she continued "- And i've had DI Lestrade round as well with the dogs and whatnot. They took everything, Sherlock. This is for your benefit, not our satisfaction".

Sherlock spent a small amount of time analyzing and reviewing the information he had just been given before responding with a sigh. He rolled over, bringing his legs up to his chest. He was not happy about this little arrangement Mrs. Hudson had sorted out, and he was definitely not happy about the drugs bust. That wasn't even Lestrade's division. But, Sherlock admitted to himself the spark of excitement he found welling up in the pit of his stomach at the mention of a dom. It really had been a while since Sherlock had anyone in his life that was a dom, let alone a dom that could control him.

Sherlock spent the rest of the week in hospital. He was offered Methadone, but turned it down. He wasn't going to lower himself to the standards of a common street junkie. He wasnt going to ween himself off of Heroin like a baby needs to be weened off of milk. He was Sherlock Holmes. It would be easy.

The detective spent his first night home with Mrs. Hudson. The dom wouldn't be arriving until the next day and Mrs Hundson - and all the doctors and majority of the nurses at the hospital - had insisted that she stay with him. He didn't think any of the hospital staff where interested in spending another night catering to Sherlock Holmes every need.

Although Sherlock had spent the last week going through what must have been called withdrawal, his first night at home seemed to be the worst he had felt all week. Weather it be the withdrawal reaching its peak, or just because if he wanted to... if he really wanted to he could use again, it seemed to be worse than it had ever been before. But his brain wasn't clouded. His brain wasn't screaming anymore. It was mostly assessing all the things that had happened during the last few days.

The detective didn't sleep that night. He sweated a lot, though. He mostly occupied his mind with the figure of Mrs. Hudson who was sleeping on a chair a few meters from his bed until he slowly shut his eyes and almost drifted of into sleep before being woken up by Mrs. Hudson running her hand through his sweat filled curls.

"You alright dear?" She asked, with a concerned tone. Sherlock just nodded, pushing her away gently and heading towards the bathroom. Before he turned the shower on he heard Mrs. Hudson call through to him "He'll be here in around an hour dear"

Sherlock got into the shower, letting the scolding water run over his back as he thought about what was too come. He had no idea what this man would be like; what he would expect of him. Should he be kneeling before he walked through the door? He was going through withdrawal! Surely he wasn't going to be expected to kneel in his current state.

He must have been in the shower longer than he thought, because after he had gotten out, dried himself off and gotten dressed he heard a light but firm tap on the door. Sherlock hurried into the sitting room and sat on his favorite chair, adopting his thinking stance. The dom wouldn't have expect him to treat him like 'his dom' on the first visit. Surely.

He listened to the footsteps coming up the stairs. Mrs. Hudson's couldn't be heard; she must have been giving them privacy. He did, however hear what sounded like a cane. Surely he wouldn't be that old? Working for an agency. Mrs. Hudson had sworn that he would have been at least half decent.

A short blonde man walked into the room. Dressed in a checkered shirt, and jeans. He was, indeed carrying a cane but he wasnt old at all. In a matter of seconds Sherlock had deduced this man was an Army Doctor, judging by his stance and hands. His limp was psychosomatic and the doctor knew it.

"Hello, Sherlock" The dom greeted.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Hello" Sherlock greeted the doctor, standing up to shake his hand. "You are?"

"John" he replied with a kind smile on his face "John Watson"

Sherlock only pressed his lips into a thin line to show he had heard. John was a good-looking man. He wore good clothes, and had a strangely nice demeanor considering his dominant position. That had never happened before.

Sherlock sat back down, realizing every intamite detail of this mans life. John seemed to be doing the same.

"So" The Doctor continued after he had finished taking in everything about Sherlock "I suppose we're to live together then, at the request of your landlady"

Sherlock nodded in response

"I suppose, then, that we should probably have a conversation about this arrangement" Oh. _Oh God_ Sherlock thought to himself _I hate these conversations_.

John must have seen the look of fear in the taller mans face, because he sat on the chair opposite Sherlock with calmer, kinder eyes.

"There's many possibilities" He continued without Sherlock having answered his previous statement. _That's better_ the detective thought. _Just give me questions and ill answer them_.

"I can be a companion; helping you stay off drugs. I can be your companion and your dominant; as well as helping you with your drug problem I will also be your dom and we will set boundaries together. Find out what you are capable of. I've been told a lot of bad things, Sherlock. Bad things indeed." The doctor said with raised eyebrows.

"_Really?" _Sherlock said in a sarcastically surprised manner _"About me?" _He snorted in derision and looked over past John to the kitchen.

"Yes" John shot back quickly, making Sherlock's eyes snap back to him "I've heard you're a bad sub. I've heard you're rude and impolite. I've heard you don't follow orders and I've heard that you dislike anybody who tries to make you unwind"

Sherlock stayed quiet, his submissive side taking the better of him

"I must warn you Sherlock, I may be being paid, but if you decide you want me as a dominant as well as a companion I won't put up with bad behaviour. The minute you seem like you dont want to be a submissive, or a submissive with me for that matter I will leave you."

Sherlock stiffened. The only reason he had stayed off of drugs for this long was because Mrs. Hudson was watching over him. He would surely return to bad habits if John left.

"I'm sure you have been informed" John continued eyeing Sherlock's stiffening posture "That drug busts will be performed on this house at random intervals."

_"What?"_ Sherlock asked flatly "Drug busts. _Drug busts?! _People rifling through _my_ things, that's ridiculous!" he exploded, standing up and walking to the kitchen.

"Sherlock" John called after him "I wasn't finished with talking to you." The detective froze, putting his fingers to his temples and sighing. He reluctantly returned to his seat. "So" John went on "Obviously you have time to choose what you want. What you _need_, and unless you know now im happy to set up in my room."

John went to get up but Sherlock stopped him when he cleared his throat.

"I um... I would like it if you where my dom" Sherlock said, meekly. He felt so embarrassed at himself. Asking to be somebody sub like a slave.

"Perfect" John said "Well done, Sherlock. You made a mature decision. Any one of those would have been the right decision, but I was afraid you wouldn't answer it at all" John smiled, and it radiated towards Sherlock who reciprocated.

"Thank you" he replied, unsure of whether to add-on the usual, respectful _'sir'_. They hadn't really discussed that far. John continued towards the door and up the stairs to look at his new room. His clothes and belongings would arrive later.

"Right then" John said, sitting down with a huff and slapping his thighs with his hands as he did so "We need to discuss things then, don't we Sherlock". The doctor picked up a cup of tea "Did you make this?" he asked.

"Mhm" Sherlock replied "And no, I didn't. They just kind of... happen. Probably Mrs. Hudson" and went back to staring intently past John. Seemingly at nothing.

"Sherlock!" John snapped his fingers in front of the taller mans face and watched as he jumped slightly at the sudden intrusion of his thoughts. Sherlock made an 'mmm' sound as way of replying. "I think the first thing we need to sort out is how you address me" John went on, soundly slightly less kind "I think sir should do, don't you think"

"Probably" Sherlock replied and looked down at his nails. He looked up at John when silence filled the room "Probably _sir_" He corrected himself.

"Right. What are your limits, Sherlock? What don't you like?"

Sherlock thought for a moment at this. He could have mentioned Scat, but didn't think the doctor the type to like it anyway. That was definitely a hard limit for Sherlock. _Oh_! He thought "Needles" he replied with a nod after several minutes of him just thinking. "Needles sir" he corrected himself again.

"Noted" John said, his smile returning to his face. "What do you like?"

Sherlock stiffened again as John said those words. John just sighed and told him "Sherlock. Today, as this is our first time together I will lay everything out for you so you only have to answer questions but as this progresses, I will expect you to answer me properly and politely. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir" Came the answer. John silently praised him for remembering the polite address.

"Okay. Do you consider caning a praise or a punishment?"

"Punishment, sir" Sherlock replied

"Do you consider paddling a praise or punishment?"

"Punishment, sir" again, came the reply.

"Do you consider the riding crop praise or punishment?" John asked again

"Uhm.." Sherlock stumbled on this last question making John bristle quite openly

"Come on Sherlock. I'm already laying it out so nicely for you the least you can do is respect me enough to answer" the doctor chastised.

"Praise, sir. The same with spanking" Sherlock said, looking down at his feet, embarrassed.

"Well done Sherlock" the blonde man smiled reassuringly, dipping his head so he could see Sherlock's expression. "I think that's all we need to talk about today. Unless there is anything you want to ask about me? Or about this?" The doctor motioned between himself and Sherlock with his hands.

The detective shook his head, soon realising John would not be happy about this he corrected himself for the third time "No, sir"

"Sherlock is you forget to call me sir one more time I will have to punish you" John warned.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir" Came the reply.

"Are you hungry?" John asked getting up from his seat.

"No, sir. Just tired" Sherlock replied. Without looking up he retreated to his room where he shut and tried to lock the door before realizing the lock had been removed. _Brilliant_.

Sherlock didnt sleep that night. He went through his cupboards trying to find the old case files he had hidden away in their somewhere. That supposed 'drugs bust' had messed all his order up. Being unable to find them, he sat on his bed with a disgruntled look on his face.

He fell back into his pillow and into his mind palace, looking at each individual piece of John that he had collected. _He seemed strict_. He cautioned himself _He seemed caring though_, the submissive part of his brain retorted. Maybe asking him to be his dom had been a bad idea.

Having him just as a companion may have been hard yes, but Sherlock felt a little scared of the man who had already made himself such a big part of the detectives life in such a small amount of time. _Damn_

_Note: I only spent about half an hour on this one, and I proof read it once, I think. Dont hate me ^.^ Please leave comments, but dont be too mean. _


	4. Chapter 4

Notes: Contains punishment (giggidy) and other yummy stuff. Sherlock being sad (Poor baby) and other things of such nature. I feel like this chapter is short Im not 100% sure. Ill try and write more ^.^

**Chapter 4**

Sherlock's eyes where open when John came in to wake him up for breakfast. It was half seven in the morning. Usually the detective would have been up and doing things hours before hand, but he had promised himself after a night of careful analyzing and thinking that he would try -_really_ try- to be a good sub for John, and that involved listening to him and trying to obey certain rules. He hadn't exactly _told_ Sherlock not to get up in the morning, but Sherlock had thought it expected off him and decided to not test boundaries this early on.

"Morning" John said, slightly surprised that the detective had been awake.

"Morning, Sir" Sherlock replied, sitting up. Despite the fact that he hadn't slept all night, his eyes where clear and alert, expecting anything and everything at the same time.

John smiled at the taller man before walking out, odors of bacon and eggs wafting into to the bedroom behind him turning Sherlocks stomach in knots. He hadn't eaten properly in weeks, substituting most meals with Ritz Biscuits and tap water. A full meal would kill him.

The detective left his room just as John called his name and turned around, almost bumping into Sherlock with the frying pan.

"Oh- Uh sorry" the black haired man said awkwardly.

"No harm done" John replied, dishing out the fatty bacon and eggs onto a place for Sherlock, along with toast. "I hope you like bacon" John said eagerly. A sharp remark was on the edge of Sherlocks lips before he bit his cheek, keeping it in. He smiled in response instead and started to cut up his bacon into small parts.

Sherlock got about half way through his piece of egg, eating a little in between cutting it up into small parts and discarding it into a pile in the corner before John decided to speak up.

"Not a fan then?" The smaller man asked, genuine concern in his voice.

"Just full" Sherlock answered wincing a little at the forgotten address at the end. He didn't add anything on, however. He was a little upset at the sudden question from John. Was it not obvious it was a sensitive topic?

"I'll have to keep that in mind" The blonde man said cautiously. Sherlock calmed down a little when John didn't mention the forgotten address. He had said yesterday it would result in punishment, but he must have not noticed. _Phew._

The two 'ate' in silence for another ten minutes before John got up and put his plate in the sink. Sherlock took that as his cue and stood up too.

"Sit" John said, just as he heard the chair move under Sherlock. The detective slowly slid back down into his chair. "What did you do, Sherlock?" John asked.

"I- I umm.. Don't no sir" Sherlock lied, looking down to his twiddling thumbs.

Suddenly, John was behind Sherlocks head, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back. "What did I say would happen if you didnt address me properly, Sherlock?"

"You said you would punish me, sir" came the reply.

"And did you address me properly, Sherlock?"

"No, sir" The detective replied reluctantly.

"You lied to me, as well didn't you" John stated. Receiving no answer, he tightened his grip in Sherlocks hair who let out a whimper in response.

"Yes sir!" The curled man whined. A tense silence followed before John released Sherlocks hair and walked to stand in front of him with crossed arms.

"I want you to go into the lounge" John said calmly "-and kneel with your front half on one of the chairs. Understand?"

"Yes sir" came the quick but strained answer from Sherlock who was obviously having a difficult time not falling and groveling at his feet to ask for mercy.

"But first I want you to strip"

Sherlock waited for a nod from John to begin taking his clothes off and putting them on the table.

"Fold them, Sherlock" John chastised.

"Sorry, sir" The curled man said with a glum look on his face. He folded his clothes and placed them carefully on the table before going out to the lounge and kneeling with his front half on his favorite chair.

Sherlock stopped counting the minutes that passed while he waited for John when he reached half an hour. He must have been letting Sherlock stew for a while. Making him really think about what had happened.

Even though it had only been a slight slip of the tongue that had led the detective into this mess, he had lied which he really shouldn't have.

John finally entered the room, not looking at Sherlock as he went up the stairs to his room to collect supplies leaving Sherlock to stew for even longer.

Coming down the stairs, John made sure he went slowly. He could tell that Sherlock had hated staying in bed, like he had hoped that he would. It showed respect for ones dom, and although he had only been in his life for a short time he still expected _that_.

He came behind Sherlock, running something thin and wooden up his back.

"Do you know what this is, Sherlock?" John asked.

"A cane sir" Sherlock answered with no trouble.

"Thats right. Are you ready to begin your punishment?"

"Yes sir"

"Do you have a safeword, Sherlock?"

"Yes sir. Just red, sir"

"Good boy. I want you to count each one" John purred, running the cane inside of Sherlocks thighs. "Are you ready Sherlock?"

"... Yes sir" came the belated response.

Sherlock heard the cane whistling through the air before feeling the hot white pain on his bare behind.

He cried out, but his words caught in his throat as he tried to speak his pain.

After a short period of time trying to hold his tears in Sherlock remembered his orders.

"One, sir" he cried through gritted teach.

Another whistle, another thwack as it landed once again on his bare behind, just below his other welt.

This number came out in his begs. John paid no regards.

THWACK THWACK THWACK.

Another three strokes brought Sherlock to tears.

"O-ONE, TWO THREE. P-p-please sir no more" The detective said through tears, his hair falling into his eyes and sticking to his temples.

"Sherlock, what did you do wrong?" John asked while admiring the welts he had just caused.

"I didn't call you sir and I lied to you when you asked, sir" Sherlock answered, gripping the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white.

"Yes you did" John agreed, with a slightly gentler tone. "I gave you five strokes today Sherlock. The amount will go up every time you disobey me, depending on the gravity of your naughtiness. You need more than a heavy hand, Sherlock. That's what i'm going to give you, but when you misbehave I have no choice. Your overcoming an addiction and too do that you need discipline."

Sherlock didn't answer, thinking it would be the wrong thing to do.

"Come here, Sherlock" John said, stepping away and sitting on the freshly made bed in the center of the room. Sherlock crawled between his legs and looked up at him with puppy-eyes. "There there Sherlock" John soothed, running his hand through the detectives hair and stroking his forehead with his thumb.

"You where a good boy Sherlock. I'm proud of you"

"Thank you sir"

Sherlock was beginning to like John. He hadn't thought their relationship would progress this fast but John had seemed to take something from inside him. He wanted to delve into John and for him to reciprocate. He wanted to love, and to be loved but at the same time the strong willed detective wanted to tell John to get lost. To get out of his house and to not come back. He wanted to insult him. He just couldn't.

Even if Sherlock was rude or dismissive. Even if he did tell John he didn't want him to be his dominant anymore he would still have to live with him. As long as Mrs. Hudson was paying him he wasn't going anywhere. He wanted John to be his dominant, and not just his companion. It was just hard to accept.

Sherlock rested his head against Johns leg, enjoying the praise and Johns soft coos of affection as submissive waves passed through him making him shiver.

"Thank you sir" S_herlock murmured _

"You're welcome pet" John answered, and Sherlock shuddered at his new name.

_I think i'm going to like this_ the great Sherlock Holmes thought, before closing his eyes and coming the closest to sleep he had in a while.

Note: This is all happening quite quickly. Too quickly? I kind of think so. I may edit this chapter but I kind of like the relationship forming. I know its mushy guys. Ill make it up to you I promise.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock spent the next week trying to cater to Johns every whim. He was good for his dominant. He spent that week in bliss, enjoying the doctors gentle coos of affection and praise.

Of course it was only so long until Sherlock would get annoyed at something or rather. Only so long until he would become detached because of the lack of a case, or maybe because he had missed something when deducing somebody life. Something was bound to cause the detective to unravel.

It was Tuesday when John came downstairs from his bedroom to find Sherlock face down on the sofa. One arm was dangling off the edge and he feet where tightly curled together. Sherlock wasn't really aware of Johns presence until he rushed to his side and gently placed his hand on the detectives shoulder.

"Sherlock!" John said, trying not to sound urgent but it cascading out his voice in ways that not only the great consulting detective could have realized.

Sherlock only stiffened in response; half annoyance, half surprise.

"Sherlock..." John repeated, with slightly less urgency in his voice. He had expected this at some point. As good as the detective was, he had a brilliant mind. Brilliant minds get bored and being bored lead to misbehavior. It hadn't escalated that far yet, but John could see it coming.

The doctor sighed after a few more minutes of trying to coax Sherlock out of his self involved cocoon and got up, walking to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. At some point during the last week, he had helped Sherlock clean up and arrange everything in the kitchen. Unfortunately, at some point during the last half an hour Sherlock had decided to mess everything up again. There was, for some reason, a bowel of cooling water sitting in the middle of the table with an assortment of unknown liquids sitting around it. The table was actually the cleanest part. The worktops where clustered with clean cups that, for some reason, Sherlock had decided to take out from the cupboards and placed them back onto the worktop.

John just sighed, accepting the fact that he was going to have to punish Sherlock for messing up the kitchen when he heard a rumble from the lounge. It was the detective, groaning as he got up from the sofa and headed from the living room to his bedroom.

"Sherlock?" John asked, sounding only slightly mad. He couldn't blame the taller man from getting bored, and he wouldn't punish him for being grumpy. They would, however have to discuss the kitchen, and how they would proceed would be determined by Sherlocks attitude.

Apparently, this was going to be difficult. The detective just kept on walking ignoring Johns word of warning.

"I asked you a question Sherlock" The doctor said.

"I heard it, _sir" _Sherlock answered before continuing "Actually, I heard it, understood it, realised the tone in which you said it and the speed your words came out your mouth. I understand more of what you just said than you can even fathom"

Sherlock walked back to his room leaving John to mull over what he just said. He sat on his bed, and seethed for a few minutes before it sank in what was going to happen now. A punishment. The last time John had punished him he had left him in tears, and he guessed the doctor could do a lot worse if the thought struck his mind.

John had smiled when Sherlock had walked away. He had known this was coming, it was only a matter of time until the detective exploded.

John poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat down on Sherlocks favorite chair, crossing his legs, he put the glass down, and folded his hands over his chests staring at the door of the detectives bedroom and waited for him to come outside.

It took two hours for Sherlock to emerge from his bedroom, head down looking at his hands which where picking at his own fingers. He walked over to John and stood in front of him. By this time, John was looking down at his drink and took a while to acknowledge the submissive standing before him.

"Sherlock" John smiled, looking up at the detective, a false smile plastered across his face, betrayed by his eyes that where dancing in anger, and _disappointment_.

The curled man waiting for his dominant to continue.

"Show some respect" John chastised, ignoring his need to reward Sherlock when he knelt down in front of him.

The doctor just stared down at his submissive for a while. He had already considered and made up his mind as to what he would do to punish his pet, he didn't really need to goad the detective like this but he really wanted to teach him a lesson. He also really _really_ enjoyed the look of Sherlock submissively knelt in front of him like this. Completely at his disposal.

The detective shuffled a little in place and opened his mouth to say something. He had only reached the first syllable of his apologetic sentence before John held up his finger.

"Shush" The doctor chastised before placing his hand over Sherlocks head, running his hands through his black curls before tightening his fist and slowly pulling his head back to look him in the eye. "Tell me what you did Sherlock" John ordered.

The detective took a deep breath before clearing his through "I-i was ru-" Sherlock grunted as the grip around his hair tightened slightly.

"Carry on Sherlock"

"Iwasrudesir-" Another grunt "-and I.. I uh walked away when you were talking" the last word was raised in pitch like he was asking a question.

"What else?" John asked, smirking at his submissives obvious discomfort.

"I dont know sir" Sherlock answered. His eyes where already filling with tears and the punishment hadn't really even begun yet.

John stood up, his hand still fisting Sherlocks hair and dragged him into the kitchen making sure to not hurt him too much. He didnt want to cause any unneeded discomfort. Sherlock was going to get enough of that in due time.

"What about all these Sherlock, ey? What about this mess?" John asked, sounding genuinely questioning.

"I'm sorry sir... I was bored sir. I didn't mean too. I didnt kno-"

"You didnt know? Is that what your going to say? You'll know soon enough, Sherlock. I swear"

The detective visibly swallowed with nervousness

"Soon enough" John repeated, before releasing his grip and walking back into the lounge. "Strip down, fold your clothes and come back into the living room"

Sherlock didnt answer, thinking it best to avoid anything that could possibly be wrong at this point. He was terrified.

When the detective had finished undressing he folded his clothes and put them carefully on the table, being careful of the water and other liquids sitting on top. He walked slowly into the living room to find John sat on _his chair_. He went over and quickly knelt, putting his head down respectfully and waited for John to make the next move.

"Anything to say before we start, Sherlock?"

"Just that im sorry, sir" came the shaky response.

"Good"

John stood up, walking around Sherlock and up the stairs to his own room. The detective could hear him rummaging around in what he guessed where drawers, before closing them and coming back downstairs. Sherlock didnt dare look around to see what John was carrying. He didn't even stiffen when he felt his arms being pulling back behind him and leather cuffs being placed and locked around his small wrists. He kept his his head down throughout, and only lifted it when he felt John pull back his and place a thick collar around his neck. _This isnt ownership_ Sherlock thought to himself. _This was something to hold when he was getting out of control. This was really going to hurt. _

John sensed Sherlocks trepidation and soothed him by slowly running his fingers through his curls, this time gently. He didn't want to cause too much emotional trauma at this point.

"Its okay Sherlock" The doctor cooed as he sat back down.

John picked up a piece of cloth from next to him that he must have placed down as he sat, along with something else and wrapped it around Sherlocks eyes. He lifted it up slightly so that Sherlock could momentarily see.

"Right" John said, sitting back and clapping quietly "I want you in the middle of the room. Face down, arse up"

"Sherlock crawled on his knees to the centre of the room and assumed the position John had ordered. This was so revealing. He trusted John, he did but this was just embarrassing.

_Thats why he was doing it_ was Sherlocks last thought before he felt the leather of a flogger with mean tips brush over his exposed flesh.

_Oh. god._


End file.
